


switch (but no bait)

by Suicix



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because all the <strike>best tag team partners</strike> <i>best friends</i> (boyfriends?) switch t-shirts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	switch (but no bait)

**Author's Note:**

> i don't remember exactly when this was, just that it was around spring/maybe early summer 2013, but there was a time when team rhodes scholars wore each other's shirts to the ring and AAAAAAAAAAA. so i wrote this. (if this happened any later than i think it did then there may be a minor inaccuracy because i mentioned team hell no in this fic and it is entirely possible that they'd broken up/lost their titles by this point oops.)

Damien hasn’t seen Cody since the two of them arrived at the arena, and it’s a little – all right, definitely a lot more than a little, although Damien’s trying his hardest not to panic – unsettling. He scans the area of the locker room that the two of them have claimed for tonight, and yes, Cody’s things are still there – Damien recognises the bag – but Cody is not.

Cody hasn’t left a note. He hasn’t sent a text or tried to call. Damien supposes he could ask around to see if anybody’s seen Cody lately, but he doesn’t particularly think there’s anyone who has anything to say that might even be anywhere _close_ to helpful. He can hear the beginnings of yet another imbecilic Team Hell No shouting match from here. _Definitely_ not helpful. How tag teams who can’t even get along for an hour at a time get to be champions, Damien will never know.

All there is for him to do now is to wait for Cody to come back so they can discuss their strategy for the match tonight. It takes surprisingly quicker than Damien was expecting, and he _knows_ his eyes light up when he hears Cody humming on his way over, when Cody’s finally in his line of sight. Cody’s already changed into his gear, and that – _that isn’t Cody’s shirt_.

No, it’s royal blue with a bold _you’re welcome_ across the back in white print. It’s one of _Damien’s_ shirts.

“Cody,” he says, giving a brisk nod both in greeting and in acknowledgement of the t-shirt. “That’s my shirt.”

“It is.”

“And you’ve – you’ve cut it up the way you wear yours.”

“I have.” Cody’s smiling wider now – knowing, somehow. Damien narrows his eyes. He doesn’t quite know where Cody’s going with this. “I was planning on wearing it on the show tonight, when we go out to the ring. And I… I hoped you might want to do the same.”

“Well,” Damien begins, trying his very best not to scoff at the obvious question because it’s _Cody_. “Of course I was. It’s my shirt. I always wear it. Unless I’m going to wear my robe, obviously.”

“No,” Cody says, shaking his head. “I meant… would you like to wear _my_ shirt.”

_Oh_. That wasn’t what Damien had anticipated. He’s silent for a moment, unsure how exactly to respond.

“I’ll take that as a no, then, if–”

If it were anybody else, Damien would tell them that for once, they’re correct. That he doesn’t want to wear their shirt, and that they’re certainly not worthy of wearing his. Cody, on the other hand, _is_ worthy. Cody, he actually _cares_ for. Cody is his _best friend_. His best friend who he secretly wants more from, if he’s totally honest with himself.

“It would be an honour,” Damien says, and he holds a hand out so Cody can pass him a shirt he can wear to the ring.


End file.
